To Love a Stranger (Wyoming Series Book 4)

  He didn’t know what to tell Bessie. He still couldn’t believe the army had sent them all this way to rebuild the fort but had sent no lye or soap. If he could just find a broom, Bessie might be able to make a beginning, but there were none. He found a stick and whittled it down to a semi-smooth shape. Then he attached some brush to the end with twine. It would have to do.

  When he returned to the house, Bessie had found an empty crate. She had dragged it to the center of the room and sat on it with Ruth in her arms. Jasper felt a pang of regret they weren’t the happy family they appeared. He pushed the thought away. He didn’t have time to think about that now. There was too much work to do.

  Bessie sent him a gentle smile. “What is that? It looks like a porcupine on a stick.”

  He grinned. “I knew my broom-making skills left much to be desired, but I thought you’d at least recognize it.”

  Her mouth dropped open, but she recovered quickly. “You made me a broom? Were the rest gone?” She stood, handed the baby to him, and took the broom. “Can you watch her? It would probably be best to take her out of here while I’m sweeping so she doesn’t breathe the dust.”

  The baby was wet, and he grimaced. “She’s wet.”

  “There are clean clothes in the ambulance. I’ll go get them.” She dropped the broom and started toward the door.

  “No, no. I’ll do it. It can’t be that hard.”

  She smiled and picked up the broom again. Dust flew, and he coughed and backed away. Ruth’s wet bottom began to soak through his coat, and he shuddered. He had already offered, though, so holding the baby at arm’s length, he hurried to the ambulance.

  He laid the baby on the seat in the ambulance and rummaged through Bessie’s small chest until he found a square of soft cloth he assumed was a diaper. This couldn’t be that hard. Gingerly, he unwrapped the baby’s blanket and grimaced. He unpinned the wet diaper and dragged it from under her bottom. Wiping his hand hastily on his pant leg, he slid the clean diaper under the baby. How did this thing connect? After several tries, he managed to get it hooked together, but the diaper drooped.

  He found a dry blanket scrap. Bessie had evidently cut a blanket into squares for Ruth. He respected her resourcefulness; what would have become of Ruth if Bessie had not been part of their detachment?

  The baby would be dead in the desert like her mother, he realized. Bessie was the one who heard the infant’s cries. Did it take a woman to hear a baby’s weak wails? If he had even heard it, he would have dismissed the sound as a bird or some other kind of animal. Bessie’s curiosity had saved this little life.

  He stared into the baby’s innocent dark eyes. She stared back and gave him a slow, tiny smile that tugged at his heartstrings. He waggled a finger at her, and she wrapped her tiny fingers around it. She was going to be a charmer, all right. When he wrapped her in the blanket, she popped her thumb in her mouth and promptly fell asleep. Weren’t babies supposed to cry more? She hadn’t let out a peep while he cared for her, and she didn’t seem to mind a sagging diaper at all.

  Such a cute baby with a thick head of black hair and smooth, soft skin. He nestled her against his chest and walked across the dusty parade ground to the quarter-master tent, where he arranged for cots and kitchen supplies. By the time he concluded his business and went back across the barren yard, nearly an hour and a half had passed. He wasn’t expecting much improvement in their quarters, since Bessie didn’t have anything to work with. They would have to stay in a tent tonight.

  Pushing open the door, he stopped in amazement. Instead of sand and dirt crunching beneath his feet, the rough floor boards were clean and scrubbed. It looked like they had even been mopped, which meant Bessie would have had to do that on her hands and knees. The dirty fireplace hearth had been swept and new logs laid. Cobwebs no longer festooned the corners of the ceilings, and the rooms even smelled cleaner. How did she do it? Suddenly, changing the diaper didn’t seem to be something worth bragging about.

  He walked through the parlor and the kitchen until he found Bessie in the tiny bedroom. She was on her hands and knees, scrubbing the floors with what looked like wet sand. A little pile of sand was heaped about four feet from her where she had swept it up. Dark smudges of dirt marred the silky white perfection of her skin, and Jasper thought she looked tired. No wonder! She had worked the entire time he was gone.

  Unnoticed, he stood observing her for a few minutes. Her hair covered with a kerchief, she knelt to her task, while her slim shoulders flexed with the force of her scrubbing. When she stopped to push a stray hair out of her eyes, she saw him standing in the doorway. Her eyes widened, and she got to her feet. Hurrying to his side, she held out her arms for the baby.

  Jasper handed over Ruth. “This place looks splendid. I have some cots on their way. If you can keep the baby now, I’ll knock together some kind of kitchen table and benches.”

  “Did you bring her cradle?” The blanket fell open as she took the infant, and Ruth’s sagging diaper was exposed. Bessie looked startled, then smiled. “I see you managed to get her changed.”

  “It’s not as easy as it looks,” he admitted gruffly. “The cradle is on its way with the rest of our things.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “You worked hard here. Thank you.”

  Her expression of surprise and delight shamed him. He didn’t want her to think he was an ogre who didn’t appreciate her efforts. Startled at how much he wanted her good opinion, he backed away. “You’ve done enough for tonight. At least the bugs and sand are gone.”

  “What about the open windows? I’d feel better if they were covered with something. Would the quartermaster have some thin cloth we could tack up? I don’t want anything heavy enough to block out the breeze, just the bugs.”

  “I’ll see what I can find. There are only three windows, so it won’t take a lot of fabric. It’s almost dark, though. It may have to wait until morning. Can you bear it for one night?”

  “Of course. We just need to make sure Ruth isn’t bitten by a spider or scorpion. I’ll have to be vigilant.”

  “We’ll be careful.” He was surprised to find her frail appearance hid a competent woman.

  The quartermaster had already closed shop when he walked back across the parade ground. They would have to deal with the open windows tonight. Looking out over the dark hills, he shivered. Cochise was out there, and they had little protection here. He had a responsibility to Bessie and Ruth now. Bugs were the least of their worries.

  §

  Bessie rocked Ruth in her arms and crooned to her. She was exhausted, but the admiration on Jasper’s face had been worth all her hard work. Was he beginning to see her differently? It certainly seemed so, but she was almost afraid to hope. Maybe it was her own wishful thinking.

  Two privates had brought their belongings, but the three small rooms still looked bare. Could this ever be a home? She had to try, but it seemed an impossible task. With a sigh, she wearily put the baby into her cradle and went to make up the cots. The privates had placed two in the tiny bedroom and pushed them together. That would never do. In fact, she thought she would ask Jasper to sleep in the parlor while she and Ruth took the bedroom. She made the beds and began to unpack the crates and barrels.

  “I thought you’d be in bed by now.”

  She jumped at the sound of Jasper’s voice. “I was just trying to put the last of our things away.”

  He took the crate lid from her hand. “You’re done for the day,” he said firmly.

  The way he was staring at her brought the blood pounding to her cheeks.

  He touched her cheek gently. “You’re tired. I’ll take the cot in the parlor. You and Ruth can have the bedroom.”

  She felt a sense of gratitude for his perception. She didn’t even need to ask him. “Are you sure you’ll be all right out here? This room has the biggest window.”

  “You are more worried about the windows than I am,” he said with a chuckle. “I’ve slept outside without even a tent over my head
more times than I can count.”

  She smiled. “Very well. Good night.” He didn’t answer but continued to stare at her as though he had never seen her before. Did she have a smudge on her nose? She didn’t know whether to walk away or stay. Her heart pounded, and her mouth went dry.

  From the bedroom came an angry wail. “The baby,” she whispered. “I must tend to her.”

  “Yes,” he said, but he touched her cheek again, and she couldn’t move.

  He finally dropped his hand and smiled. “She sounds outraged.”

  “She’s probably hungry again. She eats better since we got the bottle in Phoenix, but she’s making up for lost time now.”

  He nodded. “See you tomorrow.”

  She took a calming breath and hurried to the kitchen. Taking the bottle of milk from the cooling water bucket, she prepared Ruth’s meal. While she prepared the bottle, Bessie felt Jasper’s gaze upon her and the knowledge made her curiously clumsy. She breathed a sigh of relief when she was finally able to close the bedroom door behind her and focus on the baby. She didn’t know what to think. What had happened? Perhaps he was simply grateful for the cleaning she had done.

  She fed the baby, and then she took her Bible from the makeshift table beside the cot. She needed all the wisdom she could get on how to deal with this situation. Was she feeling love for Jasper? She just didn’t know, but she decided to spend every night finding out what God had to say about love.

  §

  The sun beat brightly through the tiny window and awakened Bessie. She sat up groggily. When she saw how bright it was, she slid to the floor and grabbed her dress. She should have been up hours ago. And why hadn’t Ruth cried and wakened her? When she looked into the cradle, she found it empty. She gasped, then smiled slowly. Jasper must have taken her.

  When she had finished her ablutions, she hurried into the kitchen and found Jasper sitting at a rough plank table on a crude wooden bench. Ruth was in his arms, sucking greedily at the bottle. Bessie felt a pang at the homey picture. Would they ever be the happy family she longed for?

  She cleared her throat, and Jasper looked up.

  “Good morning, Sleepyhead. I see you finally decided to join us.” His green eyes were warm.

  “Why didn’t you wake me?” She stepped farther into the room.

  “When this little mite’s complaining didn’t do the trick, I decided you must need the sleep.” He pulled the bottle out of Ruth’s mouth and stood. “You can play mommy. I need to get back to work.”

  “I’m sorry I slept so late.”

  Was he angry with her? But he smiled and touched her cheek like he did the night before. “I’ll try to be back for lunch.”

  §

  The next few days flew by. Bessie cared for the baby while trying to make a home in the ramshackle quarters. At times it seemed a losing battle. Dust blew under the door and through the cloth at the windows almost as fast as she could clean it up. Around the fort the men were trying to rebuild the stockade as quickly as possible. Cochise was to the south of the fort, but no one knew when he would be back up this way. Most of the men still slept in tents, but they would soon be under roofs.

  The soldiers hired Mexicans and friendly Indians who showed them how to mix adobe and make bricks. One of the Indians, a young brave about twenty-five, was fascinated with Bessie and Ruth. Jasper kept an eye on him, but he was harmless and curious.

  Within a week Fort Bowie began to look like a very different place. Jasper organized groups to begin to roof the buildings once the stockade was repaired and they were in a safer position. Bessie worried about him; he often came home looking tired and dirty.

  “Those curtains look so sweet and homey,” he told her when she finally got them finished and up on the windows. “Even Major Daniels remarked on it. He’s thinking about sending for his wife since you’re here.”

  Bessie felt a sense of jubilation. Was he beginning to think of them as a family? How she longed to be what they seemed. Would he ever look at her with that special look in his eyes he had had that night on the trail? She was beginning to wonder if she had imagined it all.

  “What’s for supper?”

  She suppressed a smile at the mirth on his face. So far they had eaten at mess every night, but she knew she needed to get started on learning to cook. She dreaded letting Jasper know she wasn’t joking when she said she didn’t know how. Although she had brought her grandmother’s cookbook with her, some of the directions seemed incomprehensible to her. If another woman came to the fort, Bessie could talk to her about cooking and other concerns. Sometimes she felt lonely surrounded by men, even though the soldiers were kind and considerate. One private, Rooster Wheeler, a grizzled red-haired man who reminded her of a banty rooster, especially looked after her.

  “Probably beans again,” she said at last, answering Jasper’s question.

  “Nope,” he said. He rummaged in the gunnysack he had laid on the table and produced a small package. “Rooster bagged an antelope this morning. He gave me this roast for ‘the little woman,’ as he called you.” He grinned hugely and handed her the meat. “You do know how to cook it, don’t you?”

  “Is there anything to go with it?” What was she going to do? She had no idea how to cook this hunk of meat, but she couldn’t face the humiliation of telling Jasper. He was beginning to think she was competent as a wife. Would Rooster know how to cook it? He caught the antelope, after all.

  Jasper grinned again and produced two wrinkled potatoes filled with eyes. “These were worth their weight in gold, but I gave Corporal Myers the scouting assignment he wanted, so I got them. I also got some canned peaches. We shall feast like kings tonight.”

  What was she to do? She turned away to care for the baby so Jasper couldn’t see her face. How hard could it be to cook this roast, anyway? Toss it in a pot with some water and these potatoes and it could be a kind of stew. That sounded good. Her mouth watered at the thought of real meat. Beans grew tiresome after weeks of eating little else. She would consult her cookbook and see what it suggested. At least she could read.

  seven

  Jasper reread the letter and frowned. He didn’t know whether to be happy or mad. He would have to discuss this with Bessie tonight. The thought of his wife brought a smile to his face. Supper should be ready by now. Would she have fixed a stew with the meat or just roasted it? Thinking of the possibilities made his mouth water. He bounded across the parade ground as he hurried home.

  The curtains blew in the hot desert wind as he approached their quarters. The adobe looked clean and scrubbed. He had caught Bessie brushing the debris from the walls of the house the other day. Barely five feet tall, she was standing on one of the benches he had made for the kitchen, and he grinned at the picture she made. The soldiers called her “Angel.” He had asked Rooster where the nickname came from, and the old soldier had said she was their angel of mercy. She was always there to listen to a problem or to pull out a splinter. It made Jasper see her in a whole new light. Physically, she was tiny, but her spirit was mighty.

  He could smell supper cooking through the open window, and his grin widened. Stew and fresh-baked bread. He threw open the door and found his way to the kitchen. Bessie stood over the woodstove stirring the pot. She tasted the stew and grimaced.

  “Something wrong?” he asked. “It sure smells good.”

  She turned slowly. “I guess it’s ready.”

  She didn’t seem very enthusiastic. Maybe she wasn’t hungry. He took off his hat and poured water into the pitcher to wash his hands. “Ruthie sleeping?”

  “She should be waking anytime.”

  “I reckon we should eat before she does. Then you won’t have to be hopping up and down.” He dried his hands and sat on the bench expectantly.

  Bessie took a cup and ladled stew into the two waiting bowls. She sat them on the table, then turned back to the stove. “The biscuits should be done, too. I’ll get them.” Taking a cloth, she pulled the biscuits from the ove
n and put them on the table.

  Jasper’s mouth watered just looking at them. They were golden brown and looked delicious.

  “Thomas was overseeing supplies today. I talked him out of some jam for the biscuits,” she told him. She sat on the other bench and folded her hands while Jasper said grace.

  He picked up his spoon. He couldn’t wait to eat something other than the usual mess slop. He took a big spoonful of stew and shoveled it into his mouth. It was so hot it was hard to really taste it for a minute, but then the gamy flavor hit his taste buds. His gaze shot to Bessie. Her eyes down, she chewed slowly. The expression on her face looked as though she were in pain. He swallowed and reached for a biscuit. That ought to kill the gamy flavor.

  Ladling jam onto a biscuit, he bit into it with appreciation, then spit it back out. “What did you make these out of?” he asked before he could stop the words. “They taste salty.”

  She frowned and took a biscuit. “I just followed the directions.” She broke off a piece of biscuit and put it in her mouth. Shuddering, she discreetly spit it back out again. She folded her hands in her lap again and bent her head. “I don’t understand it,” she murmured.

  Jasper got up and looked at the ingredients she had on the stove. “How much saleratus did you use? Sour milk and molasses usually work better.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t have any molasses, so I just guessed. I used too much?”

  He felt sorry for her. She had tried so hard. He would just eat the stew and not say anything until later about the spices she should have used. There was no reason to make her feel any worse. “You’ll learn,” he said. He put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s better than mess hall food.” He sat down and quickly ate the stew.